


don't need reason don't need rhyme

by blackwell



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwell/pseuds/blackwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>B-side of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755611">on the way to the promised land</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't need reason don't need rhyme

**Author's Note:**

> The title, once again, is taken from "Highway to Hell."

“You won’t find him.”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t doubt me. I’m damn good at this, and you’ve said so yourself, sir.” Rhodey tries to smile.

“He’s dead. And if he’s not dead, he’s as good as dead. You’re wasting our time, you’re wasting our resources, and you’re risking your life for nothing.”

 

When everyone told him it was hopeless, he went looking for Tony, and he found him half-dead but grinning in the desert. He didn’t think he’d ever get that lucky again.

 

They’re sitting in Tony’s workshop now and passing a joint back and forth. Rhodey’s reaction to pot has never been atypical, and by now he should really be feeling more mellow than he is.

He takes a slow, deep breath (as if that’s gonna help). There’s something strange between them now—there has been ever since Tony woke up in the hospital bed where they brought him after he was found. Ever since Rhodey laid a hand on his thigh to ease him back into the world of the living.

Of course, he might just be imagining it. Rhodey is well aware that whether it’s wishful thinking or fear, strong emotions can play tricks on the mind. Maybe Tony didn’t think there was anything strange about Rhodey’s hand a couple inches from his dick. Maybe he was too high on pain medications to even notice it.

That’s when it happens. Tony stands up, leans across the table, and kisses Rhodey. It’s all awkward angles and a little too much tongue, which doesn’t surprise Rhodey in the least, Tony being Tony.

The kiss itself is enough of a surprise.

Rhodey sits there, lets Tony kiss him, throws an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer.

The first thing he thinks is _oh fuck he knows_.

The second thing he thinks is _hell yes_.

Tony draws away, and Rhodey barely has time to process the loss before he’s back, in his lap this time, and that’s even better. His hands are wandering, and Rhodey can feel fingers making their way down his side, slipping beneath his belt.

Rhodey stands up, but Tony clings to him. He’s warm and insistent and Rhodey could lose himself in that mouth, he knows he could. But he’s always thought of himself as a better man than that.

“We can’t do this.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you’re high. I’m high. We’re both high. Terrible idea.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking like me now, so I must have gotten to you.”

Rhodey almost leans forward to continue the kiss, but he holds himself back.

“Look, I want to, Tony. But not now. We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“You promise?”

Rhodey is shaking—all of him, shaking, shaking like a leaf—but he manages to get the words out. “I promise.”

And then he turns on his heel and leaves the workshop, walking quickly lest his resolve weaken. It’s only when he’s halfway down the hall that he realizes he never said good night.

 

They don’t talk about it in the morning. He tries—perhaps not as hard as he could have—but Tony is having none of it.

The next time they have a serious conversation, it’s just Tony pitching some crazy-ass plan at him, and Rhodey trying desperately to keep up. Tony’s just not himself—it’s in the way he speaks, it’s in the way he holds himself, it’s in the way he looks at Rhodey like they’re strangers.

He’s hiding something—Rhodey is certain.

That’s Tony, though, and Rhodey knows that he’s always let people in or shut them out according to how he feels in the moment, with no regard for reason. He tries not to be offended.

He pours himself into his work and thinks of Tony as little as he can.

During the day, it’s easy enough.

At night, though, Tony has a strange way of springing to mind the second Rhodey’s head hits the pillow. His face dances on the backs of Rhodey’s eyelids when he closes them.

The man always was a night owl.

He’d probably be amused if he knew that the memory of his hands on a pair of wire cutters was enough to wake Rhodey in the middle of the night, hard and wanting. That’s me, he’d say. I’m demanding. Get over it.

But Rhodey can’t get over it.

He slips his arm beneath the covers of his bed, takes his dick in his hand, and lets the shame and the pleasure, as one, take him.

Tony’s hands on the wire cutters. Tony’s feet sticking out as the rest of his is concealed beneath some car he’s working on. Tony’s arms as he wanders about his workshop, fingers tapping on every available surface, seeking inspiration.

Rhodey either has the worst imagination known to man, or the best.

But the kiss—he doesn’t need to imagine the kiss. The kiss was real.

Rhodey tells himself again and again that Tony was high, that he wasn’t the sort of man who would kiss his best friend sober, but he doesn’t believe it. If there’s one thing he knows about Tony, it’s that he’s exactly the sort of man who would kiss his best friend sober.

So what’s keeping them from talking about this? If it were anyone else, Rhodey would assume it was fear. But it’s Tony, so he knows it’s more likely than not preoccupation.

 

As it turns out, Tony’s been busy flying around in a metal bodysuit saving lives. 

Sitting on the roof of some unknown building in the city of Brawley, watching a private demonstration of said metal bodysuit, Rhodey has to admit that as far as excuses go, it’s a pretty good one.

Tony lands the suit beside him, and if Rhodey didn’t know better, he’d swear he was preening. “Very impressive. You can take it off now, I get the idea.”

Tony does.

And then Tony looks at him and says, “Sorry. We can have that conversation now, if you want.”

Rhodey just reaches up, grabs Tony by his belt, and pulls him down on top of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr: [Blackwell Writes](http://blackwellwrites.tumblr.com/)


End file.
